Man's Best Friend
by Scifiroots
Summary: House isn’t able to get rid of Hector or Wilson so easily. "Family"


Man's Best Friend

By Clarity Scifiroots  
Regular disclaimers apply. Fannish creation!  
**Fandom/Characters**: House, M.D. – House, Wilson, Bonnie, Hector (hints of pre-House/Wilson)  
**Spoilers**: "House Training" and "Family"  
**Rated**: All (some language, though)  
**Summary**: House isn't able to get rid of Hector (or Wilson) so easily. I'd wanted to do something related to the recent episodes and since I'm a major pet person (have three cats and four dogs—one of which is a certified therapy dog) it rather made sense to take off from "Family."  
May!Fic 4 of 31

--

"You could keep him. She wants to get a puppy anyway," Wilson said.

House snorted. "Oh please. Get the little demon out of here." He tossed the leash to Wilson and watched as his friend's expression fell when Hector stood up and walked three-legged towards him. "Accidents happen," he said casually before the other man could say anything. He avoided Wilson's gaze by tossing a cracker at Hector. The dog caught it from the air and wagged appreciatively. House made a face at the animal but privately admired the little thing's spirit and tenacity. Who would've thought the dog would stick so close to a guy who'd done his damnedest to get rid of it.

Wilson sighed and led Hector out the door. "You're really a jerk," he said, leveling House with a glare. "I'll be here at least another hour. Go talk to Foreman."

House got up when man and dog were at least a couple meters down the hall. From his doorway he watched the dog's limp steadily improve and noticed the slump of Wilson's shoulders. The dog looked over its furry shoulder, gazing at House with a surprisingly understanding expression. House scowled and tossed a cracker into his mouth. Stupid dogs and stupid people who thought animals were therapeutic. He turned away and headed in the opposite direction. Time to find Foreman.

--

He could hear the phone ringing down the hall as he limped heavily back to the office. Pushing the door open with more force than necessary, he grabbed the phone and barked, "What?"

A pause, and then a woman's sarcastic voice traveled through the line. "Good to hear your voice, Dr. House."

House closed his eyes in annoyance. Why the hell was Bonnie calling him?

"Spit it out, I don't have time for this."

"I bet you don't," Bonnie responded, frustration clear, otherwise she seemed amazingly calm. "James called and said you'd given up on Hector."

House dropped into a chair and began tapping his new cane against his foot. "Yeah, the mutt tore up the place. Chewed my cane in two." Bonnie started laughing. Honest-to-God laughing. House snarled, "That's one fucked up little mutt. You should be glad I'm giving it back to you and didn't have him put down."

She stopped laughing, although a trace of amusement remained in her voice. "Listen, House. We had this conversation. You volunteered to take him and you've got him. Hector doesn't listen to me any better than he does you. _You_ however, have an advantage I don't."

"And what's that?" he snapped. It was so tempting to just hang up on her...

"James."

House pulled the phone away from his ear and eyed it suspiciously. "Excuse me?" he said.

Bonnie sounded amused and bitter at the same time. "That dog listens to James. Well, not perfectly, but he was always much more behaved when James was around." She continued, "Funny, isn't it, that it's the same thing with his namesake?"

House couldn't think up a response. Damn, score one for the woman.

"You've got 'em, House!" Bonnie said. "Congratulations. Enjoy your dysfunctional little family."

She hung up before he could even protest. Damn her.

--

Wilson came by an hour later, coat on and Hector in tow. House sat in the same chair, brooding, and twirling his cane between his palms.

"Bonnie won't take him," Wilson said apologetically as he stood in the doorway. He looked at the leash in his hands, apparently debating whether or not to hand it over yet.

House glanced up. "I know. She called." He looked back at his cane with a frown. "You take him."

"I'm in a _hotel_, House," Wilson reminded.

"So? She says it listens to you. You can sneak him in. Pretend he's your service dog," he said with a smirk.

Wilson fixed him with a stare that said "you're-an-idiot-and-you're-not-getting-me-to-do-thins." House rolled his eyes.

"He's not my dog," he argued.

"Technically he's not mine, either. Don't know why he only listened to me," Wilson mused, looking down at the white furball obediently sitting at his side. "Come on, House, you've survived the last two weeks with him. He's got to have improved. Besides, who else would willingly stay with you this long after the crap you've pulled?"

House glanced up suspiciously. Yep, Wilson wasn't meeting his gaze but had a little self-deprecating smile twisting his lips.

"Besides you, you mean." House snorted. "Fine, but the little bastard better shape up. And if there's trouble, _you're_ handling it. And when you finally get your ass out of the hotel, it better be a place where you can take that thing."

Wilson looked surprised.

House stared down at the flame pattern on his cane. Pushing aside thoughts of dogs and chewed remains of paper and wood—actually, Hector made a great paper shredder—House announced, "Foreman's quitting."

Silence.

"Apparently it sucks to be me," he said with a smirk. "He says you can't get the genius doctor without the jackass personality." He flipped his cane up and looked closer at the flame pattern. Yeah, this was definitely what he needed. Should have picked something like this out ages ago.

Wilson moved to sit in the chair nearby. He leaned forward on his elbows and attempted to catch House's gaze.

"You didn't expect it," he guessed.

House flicked his gaze to meet Wilson's momentarily. "I expected to fire him."

Wilson shrugged. "But that's different..." He studied House for long, silent moments. "He really impressed you, didn't he? And now your Mini Me is taking off."

House sneered. "Why do you always resort to psychoanalytical bullshit?" He stomped the end of his cane on the floor. "I'm pissed at the idiot for giving up. Finally does what he's supposed to and now runs from it screaming like a little girl."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's what's bothering you," Wilson said dryly, leaning back.

They sat in silence for a long time. Hector stood up and moved over to House. It stood on its back legs and rested its good paw on House's shin. House glared down at the dog, still confused as to why the animal kept pleading for his attention. The round dark eyes gazed up at him adoringly. Stupid dog, didn't it realize he'd nearly killed it? (Seriously, he was surprised Wilson hadn't demanded he take the mutt to some vet ER to get its stomach pumped after crunching down Vicodin.)

Wilson's sigh cut into his thoughts. "Let's get out of here. Take Hector home, I'll come by with food in an hour." He stood up and dropped the leash over House's cane. "And I'll get a few things for Hector."

House scowled. "Bonnie left him plenty of ridiculous toys and canine goodies."

"I figure you might appreciate some other things that might keep him from getting into everything."

House looked up to find Wilson watching him with a gentle expression. Kind of ironic, he thought as he pushed himself up and Hector walked out of his way; he might be the dog's namesake but its expressions matched Wilson's much better.

After he'd put on his coat, they walked to the elevators with Hector trotting happily between and slightly ahead of them. The mutt was certainly pleased about something.

House glanced sidelong at Wilson, considering that Hector, like its "daddy," had infiltrated his life and made a mess of everything he'd become accustomed to. The elevators opened and they stepped in. House looked down at the dog, a tiny spark of curiosity making him wonder if Bonnie had planned on him taking the mutt all along.

-- --


End file.
